“Are you sure I will be OK?” I enquired of Griselda
“Yes of course Mr Hancock” Griselda addressed me as if I was a small child……as usual.
“…but….but 75 minutes does not seem very long for a connection.” I meekly responded.
“It happens all of the time at Hong Kong, it is all very efficient there you know?”
I wonder how Griselda became so knowledgeable about travel given that she did so little of it herself and her highest education was at the Sid James Finishing School in Broadmeadows.
I departed the Holiday Inn with further reassurances that there would be no more confusion surrounding my bookings in the future. I sighed, knowing that this would not be the case, and wandered over to the international terminal.
“You will need to sight my Australian Passport to check me in.” I advised the check in agent at the Cathay Pacific Business Class check in desk.
“No it is fine.” He smiled back at me.
……..ten minutes later and much beeping and keyboard tapping……
“I need to see your Australian passport please Mr Hancock.” Was the request by the chappie who previously didn’t need to see it.
It was going to be one of those days, for a start just because Cathay Pacific does not have a First Class Cabin on the flight I saw no reason not to have a First Class check in desk for important people like me. I had no idea who Griselda should write to about this so sent a telegram to asking her to investigate.
It was clear that the powers that be at Melbourne Airport were doing their best to remove premium experiences, firstly by pretty much abandoning any semblance of priority security and then by removing the APEC lane. It was almost as if there was a scramble between Sydney and Melbourne to reach the nadir of low cost airport status.
That last bastion of tranquillity and decency, the Qantas First Class Lounge continues its service level spiral to awfulness. There was a time when a staff member would approach one after settling into one of the comfortable chairs, these days one has to go to bar to get a glass of claret.
Fortunately, Cathay Pacific has maintained standards and offers warm nuts as a part of its pre meal service, it also has a decent meal service, the Rainbow Beef was very good. The service does lack a certain warmth though and can be quite robotic. No scrimping on the claret though and I drifted off into an alcohol-induced coma after about three hours on board.
The flight landed some 50 minutes early and I managed to reach the transfer security without falling over. I noticed a sort of golf buggy racing past me with a passenger from my flight on board. This was clearly something I would need to discuss with Griselda when I spoke to her next.
The Pier is a quite marvellous lounge and always seems to be nearly empty when I visit. I settled down into a relatively comfortable chair and gazed out at the window, safe in the knowledge that I would be departing form gate 62 ish. I was probably a little of colour because somehow I managed to miss the fact that there did not appear to be an Airbus A380, in British Airways livery parked at gate 62, so it was all rather hurried getting down to gate 15 where the said Airbus A380 had appeared. I had a dry martini to settle myself down before boarding.
“I think it is this way actually” was the now familiar response to just about any British Airways steward or stewardess attempting to guide me to a part of the aeroplane where my seat was not located.
I really do not understand why it is so complicated; surely they must build up some sort of idea where the seats are? #sigh#
“Air traffic control in China has placed some restrictions on take off and landing” are not the words you want to hear when you are stuck on the ground with an air conditioning system struggling to work on the on ground power unit. “It could be two hours” were even less welcome words. Griselda would be writing a very stern letter to Mao Zedong.
Fortunately the Captain made a bit of time up and we arrived in time for me to consume a rather pleasing traditional English Breakfast in the Concorde Room before heading to Oslo. (I must ask Griselda why I have to keep going to Norway, I’m sure she mentioned it but it is a bit annoying.)
As per my previous trip to Norway Griselda had arranged an Airbus A321 with some rather nice large seats, but with a rather dim crew. Despite me explaining that I would be getting off the aeroplane and getting straight back on it seemed a concept too far for the Customer Service Manager.
“Gee Hank do we need our passports!” the middle aged obese American lady asked her husband. They were stood in front of me but behind about 30 other Americans asking each other the same question.
How did the USA become the most powerful nation on earth I asked myself. I continued to listen to the inane bleatings of the thoroughly incompetent as I edged closer to passport control.
“Seriously? You are asking the immigration officer for directions to your hotel?” I thought but didn’t say.
Time was running out for me, I still had to clear security and outbound immigration. For the first time a transfer at Oslo was turning into a nightmare. The queue at security was eight deep, and there seemed to be some issue with understanding the need to remove liquids and laptops. The issue, it transpired, was one of nationality. Yes the queue was populated by Americans and all appeared to have a very limited intellect.
I was the second last person to board the flight; I made it by the skin of my teeth after having to actually run at one stage. Griselda would be writing a very, very stiff letter to President Eisenhower seeking a significant improvement in the US education system.
Planey things at Heathrow
It had been a most stressful morning , I rate it as a three martini stress level and was please to finally get away from the airport an on my way.
TTFN
pink/purple face
